MY PSYCHIC LIFE

I was recently in Los Angeles and decided to take a break and walk along the beach in Santa Monica. The minute I stuck my feet on the wide sandy beach, Some hippie guy pushing his child in a stroller on a nearby walkway smiled as he passed and offered, “Have a nice day. Don’t forget to see the dolphins.”

Dolphins?

I’d been to that beach so many times over the years. There were no wild dolphins there. Too many people. Too close to shore. Sometimes LSD trips take you to new vistas.

So I continued toward the water where people cavorted in the waves or sunbathed on the sand. Wait. Was that something moving in the waves out there? Too far for surfers. Maybe small fishing boats?

I stopped dead in my tracks at the ocean edge. There, sun glinting off their arched bodies was a pod of wild dolphins performing their natural acrobatic water ballet while they swam parallel to the distant shoreline. I looked at the people on and near the beach. No one seemed to notice them. Was I hallucinating? Catching a contact LSD high? No. They were real and swimming out there in plain sight. Wild dolphins just out of reach.

Not for long.

Could I psychically contact wild dolphins? There was only one way to find out. I started to telepathically call them to come closer. Gently I repeatedly called out to them and watched.

Nothing happened…until all the dolphins in the pod changed direction. They were no longer swimming parallel to the shoreline. They were playfully arching and swimming straight toward me.

I started to panic. What would happen if they came really close and the people on the beach saw them? They might scare them, disturb their frolic and freedom. What would the lifeguards do? Not wanting to find out, I quickly sent the dolphins a message to swim away.

Within moments, the whole pod turned and headed out to sea. Everyone continued whatever they were doing without notice of our grand experiment. Thankful, but pleased, I continued my walk with no one, except the dolphins, the wiser.

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Hello Litany, I am new to your site and find your blog fascinating. Thank you. About 25 years ago, I had an interesting experience with a squirrel. I had heard a number of blue jays and other birds agitated outside my parents home in the trees and went to see what was happening. I figured it was a predator of some type and I wanted to see if I could alleviate the problem with my presence and the predator would go away. What I found was a long branch with a bird nest with eggs at the end, a black snake in the middle heading towards the nest and a squirrel on the opposite end, looking very concerned. The branch was about 10-12 feet off the ground, so I couldn’t do anything immediate to help save the nest. At that moment, on another branch, the squirrel came running towards me. I froze, because I thought it was going to leap on me, but instead, it shook it’s head up-and-down trying to communicate to me to do something. I spoke out loud to the squirrel and said, “I cannot do anything to help from here, you go back up and knock the snake down and then I’ll take the snake away.” Stunned, I watched as the squirrel did precisely what I requested it do. It went up to the snake, bit it’s tail, held the snake in it’s mouth while the snake went completely limp and faced straight down towards the ground. The squirrel violently shook the snake and spit it out. It landed on the ground. Uh-oh, now I had to do my part of the deal, but didn’t want to touch the snake, so I woke up my father to grab the snake and he took it to our woods. My reminder of the experience was snakes blood across the top of my brand new white sneakers. The snake, the nest and the squirrel where all okay. I now talk to all the animals and sometimes they talk to me.